(no subject)
After two days, Hermione finally removed the metaphorical leash. It couldn't have happened a minute sooner. Harry appreciated the concern and liked having Hermione around, but at a certain point her worrying grated on his nerves and if she hadn't let him out of her sight, he would have snapped. He didn't want to, and had already said a few things a little more harshly than needed, but he couldn't stand the fuss. To him, arriving on Tabula Rasa was a good thing. No, there was no magic, and that was starting to grate on him, too. But he had lived long enough in the Muggle World to get by with just electricity and there was a kind of magic to the place. The kitchen was restocked as if by house elves and he heard a little bit about the bookshelf and the clothes box, though the latter he had not dared examine yet. He liked his own clothes which had survived in Hermione's beaded bag before the charms left it. He would need to get more later, or do laundry, but Harry could put off those horrors for now.
He missed Ron more than he cared to admit. It felt foolish to when they had only been apart now for three days and so mild embarrassment stopped him from saying anything. That and the fear that Hermione missed him more and might start to cry if he brought Ron up. So he looked at the lack of his best friend in a hopeful way, like he did all the people he missed. There was a magic to this place and that magic had brought him here. There was no reason that tomorrow it wouldn't bring Ron, or Harry's father or mother. It could bring even Dumbledore, or Neville or Ginny. Truth be told, Harry had gotten so used to missing Ginny that it was like nothing had changed really. Just a constant ache in his heart only made worse by the brief moments he had seen her in the castle. But now it wasn't a matter of staying apart so Voldemort wouldn't capture her or track Harry down. It was just a matter of waiting in Harry's mind. He could wait and stay hopeful. He would.
For now he examined the bookshelf, looking for something to occupy him. The snow was great and the buildings made him laugh, but it was hard to be hopeful when he remembered snowball fights with Ron, Neville, Dean and Seamus. So he stayed inside and looked at the movie reels. Sirius had said that there were books and while that didn't surprise Harry, he wasn't ready to look at them yet. He had too much fear that this Rowling character was a lot like Rita Skeeter and he wasn't ready to see that yet. So instead he pulled out a reel called How the Grinch Stole Christmas. He didn't know what a grinch was (Hermione probably did, and could tell him exactly what page of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them talked about them), but Harry figured that it wouldn't get away with stealing Christmas and the movie would be something fun to watch.
The problem was that Harry had no idea how to work the projector. He stood there, feeling rather ridiculously helpless, and poked thoughtfully at one of the gears, wondering if it would be worthwhile poking it with a wand.
[Expect slow time on my part as I have a few errands to run. His hair is extremely shaggy right now, so it's not like you can see the scar, but do please help the Boy Who Lived figure out the projector. Open to tags till I say "uncle."]
He missed Ron more than he cared to admit. It felt foolish to when they had only been apart now for three days and so mild embarrassment stopped him from saying anything. That and the fear that Hermione missed him more and might start to cry if he brought Ron up. So he looked at the lack of his best friend in a hopeful way, like he did all the people he missed. There was a magic to this place and that magic had brought him here. There was no reason that tomorrow it wouldn't bring Ron, or Harry's father or mother. It could bring even Dumbledore, or Neville or Ginny. Truth be told, Harry had gotten so used to missing Ginny that it was like nothing had changed really. Just a constant ache in his heart only made worse by the brief moments he had seen her in the castle. But now it wasn't a matter of staying apart so Voldemort wouldn't capture her or track Harry down. It was just a matter of waiting in Harry's mind. He could wait and stay hopeful. He would.
For now he examined the bookshelf, looking for something to occupy him. The snow was great and the buildings made him laugh, but it was hard to be hopeful when he remembered snowball fights with Ron, Neville, Dean and Seamus. So he stayed inside and looked at the movie reels. Sirius had said that there were books and while that didn't surprise Harry, he wasn't ready to look at them yet. He had too much fear that this Rowling character was a lot like Rita Skeeter and he wasn't ready to see that yet. So instead he pulled out a reel called How the Grinch Stole Christmas. He didn't know what a grinch was (Hermione probably did, and could tell him exactly what page of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them talked about them), but Harry figured that it wouldn't get away with stealing Christmas and the movie would be something fun to watch.
The problem was that Harry had no idea how to work the projector. He stood there, feeling rather ridiculously helpless, and poked thoughtfully at one of the gears, wondering if it would be worthwhile poking it with a wand.
[Expect slow time on my part as I have a few errands to run. His hair is extremely shaggy right now, so it's not like you can see the scar, but do please help the Boy Who Lived figure out the projector. Open to tags till I say "uncle."]